As James C. Dobson, founder of the Family Research Council,
plunged into me, again and again, each time more proudly and deeply, I bit down
hard on his pillow, elegantly embroidered with the visage of Jesus Christ
himself. “When would the pounding end?” I wondered, after hours, seemingly
days, of his savaging my anus.
“FOCUS ON THE FAMILY!!!!” he cried.
I lifted my head, and found myself gazing at his family
portrait, James standing proudly beside his lovely wife Shirley, and their
beautiful adult children, Danae and Ryan.
This only made me more aroused.As I came onto the framed
photo, and then collapsed, despite still being anally brutalized, my head
swirled quixotically: “If I tell the media about this, I’ll ruin the anti-gay
movement. But if I don’t, I can keep getting pounded by James C. Dobson.”
And my choice suddenly became clear. I gritted
my teeth, lowered my head, and raised my supple ass even higher. As James C.
Dobson moaned and emptied his future progeny deep inside me, I knew I had
chosen wisely